Before I secure the seatbelt in the handbasket …

June 6th, 2016, 8:17 AM by Goddess

Fought with the landlord’s new girlfriend over text all weekend. I cannot believe how much they insult me and my intelligence. Horrid, wretched people.

I was up half the night worrying about work too. The upstairs neighbor was actually quiet for a change. And I still barely slept.

But I’m focusing on the positive. A problem that was created got solved. I won’t think about the other 98 problems I have to solve/help solve.

I got to thinking about the Weight Watchers “Connect” app. I watch people brag that they ate a whole cake but they tracked it and they will be better tomorrow.

I was thinking about it because of a big problem that I didn’t create, didn’t solve and didn’t even handle. And it’s giving me an ulcer.

Someone asked about it and my mental response was “well good riddance” and I thought about those “I ate the WHOLE CAKE AND LOVED IT MMMM MMMMMMMMM” people. They make jokes where they are not appropriate.

I mean yes, eat what you want, be honest about it in your tracker and promise yourself to do better the next meal/day. Fine.

But don’t be a dick about it.

I mean yes, I have to own my fuckups (even if I don’t fully believe they were within my control). Take control. Apologize. Fix it. Ask for help in fixing it. And if you don’t get it, fix it anyway. (This is where I fell down on the job. I didn’t “fix it anyway.” Because I have no idea how.)

But where I kind of look down my British nose at the people who proudly binge-ate is that this is a lifestyle, eating right. You know what I want to do when I eat cake? EAT MORE CAKE. So I cannot eat cake. It’s that simple.

I can’t snack anymore either. I don’t buy them. Because I will Hoover them in. I can’t open a bag of chips — even sea salt kale or quinoa chips — without DEMOLISHING them. So, no chips in Goddess’ world unless I know I will destroy the bag and will have to give up something else that’s delicious because of it.

Anyway, only I could try to relate food to work. But yeah. I binge on work too. Maybe not on all the right things. I know I give way more attention to certain things (like 10 Cherry Tomatoes Short of a Salad) and not to OMG This Thing is On Fire (sung in the tune of Alicia Keys). And the trade-off is my health. Ergo, wine for dinner and health problems galore.

In any event. The handbasket awaits. And of course there’s no gas in it because this is me we’re talking about!



Final whine of the day. I promise

June 3rd, 2016, 4:49 PM by Goddess

The good news is, I will get a refund on my Key West trip. In 10 days.

The bad news, I bought it on a super-special deal that I will never, ever see again. Ever.

Sorry, Mom. Fucked up your birthday.

What I wouldn’t give to do the itinerary I had planned …

I got to thinking about the fool I would never in my right mind hire. Because, I already have Soccer Ball to the Skull 1, 2 and 3. I don’t need a whole damn army.

But I wonder if they could have found their ass with both hands long enough to cover me for the one day we wouldn’t have had any coverage.

Dipwad proclaimed to someone else that they are waiting for me to hire them for my “open position.” It honestly worries me the level of delusion one can possibly possess.

It also makes me wonder that their references have no interest in calling me back.

If there is one thing I have tried to do at every company, it’s to think of the future. And I can’t in MY right mind “will” the company (so to speak) to someone who either lies or can’t follow a simple conversation to its natural conclusion.

No participation trophies today. Even if we’re getting back to the point where bad help might be better than none at all …



Devolving

May 21st, 2016, 9:31 AM by Goddess

When I interview people, I look for basic courtesies. The ability to tell a good story. The feeling that this person has the capability of having my back and not plunging a knife through it. The hope that tough situations will be made more bearable by their presence and assistance.

The last few times I hired, that’s what I hired. I think it worked out for the best, for the most part. One ended up having zero talent beyond being a nice person. Another had mad talent but fell off the grid and proved to be a bit on the unreliable side. And the third is still with me, keeping me sane for the most part.

I had the chance to interview someone recently. I absolutely wanted nothing to do with this person going into it. No manners. No grace. No access to a shower that morning, apparently. Just, all-around bleah.

The interview was OK. Showered, check. I didn’t see effort as far as dress or other preparation. And someone needs to put a shock collar on that one to notify them when they say something that makes me go, “Did they just say that?” And I’m not even a formal type of person. Because, let’s count the stupid things I say in a day. Hmmm. …

Anyway, I got to wondering whether I would do better managing someone who has no redeeming social qualities. 

I mean, the people who are nice and reasonable AND talented are the best. But I don’t know about the people I’ve been encountering lately. You either get smarts or experience or talent or grace or personality. You don’t get them all.

I think this one could eventually learn to be anything other than a social Asperger’s case. I did not hold back in telling them (nicely) what they were doing that would piss off any reasonable interviewer type. 

This one has a level of delusion about reality in general and their own abilities in particular that concerned even me.

On the other hand, I wonder if the secret to really being an effective mentor is to not particularly care for the person. 

Like, you can care about them but not for them. 

I shared my wisdom as articulately as I could. I really didn’t care as much how it was received. Whereas with others, I said what had to be said but I was also concerned that their sensitivity would mean they didn’t take it for what it was worth (and use it).
I look at a friend who was let go recently. He was kind of everyone’s buddy rather than their boss. So they brought in someone who is more boss-like and less “someone who does the same kind of work and understands the type of people who are doing that work.”

Of course, I also see the wrong people sucking up to the new person and making things difficult for the rest of the team that actually is valuable.

I don’t know. I want to believe in being stronger together. But you really are an island in the end. And I want dragons in my moat from now on so people don’t get too close and, ultimately, drag me down with them.

There’s always the hope you can bring them up to your level. I will always have that hope. And that’s what made me invest SO MUCH in so many. But in the end, the cheese stands alone — at least at review time. And harmony does not necessarily equal profitability. And the hole in the cheese’s heart grows a little bigger because of it.

I don’t know if Stinky Cheese will become part of the charcuterie platter. But I do have a feeling that if anybody can beat them into submission, or at least destroy their dreams and/or delusions, it’ll be me.



Whelmed

May 11th, 2016, 12:51 PM by Goddess

I wouldn’t say I’m overwhelmed. But I am very, very whelmed this week.

Someone was saying that things had to be less-busy a few years ago. And I said no, they were 10 times busier.

Which surprised my friend, who thinks I just do an absolute shitload. Meet my new favorite person!

I admit I’m back to spinning plates again. And freebasing Tums. And racking up a hundred Starbucks points a week.

Unrelated I walked in with a gift card given to me with zero dollars on it. They know me very well there and said seriously, Goddess. Get new friends.

Also unrelated, have you seen the cute Starbucks/Disney tops on Etsy? I’m so buying one. Maybe for my birthday. Which is just around the corner. Eeek.

Where was I? Crap, I forgot.

Anyway I got to thinking about some good calls and decisions I’ve made recently. Which get me to sleep at night when I’m obsessing over everything else that isn’t getting done.

And then I get to thinking about possibly hiring again. Which, after the Kid, I’d rather light myself on fire and jump from the top of the Orlando Eye. And I am not quite yet qualified to offer an opinion on the person standing there waiting, hoping and praying for the (a?) job. But I have the same feeling I had pre-Kid … warm body is not necessarily better than nobody.

Then again, I wouldn’t BE SO BEHIND if, for a few bucks, I could be passing some bucks.

Anyway, back to Whelmed World. Whelmed World. Party Time. Excellent …



Respect MAH authoritah!

May 10th, 2016, 8:04 AM by Goddess

My friend and I were having the “why everyone hates reviews” talk recently. He just got a raise and had to go through his annual “well you’re valuable but not all that valuable” that preceded the annual “cost of living” bump. Which, seems like that could have been doled out without all the drama. But, he figures it’s a fair exchange — a few moments of discomfort for the ability to buy an extra cup of coffee each week.

It reminds me of landlords. How even though I try to solve problems, I always have someone calling to tell me that I didn’t do it the way they would have done it. Even though I used my best judgment when surrounded with a crisis that wasn’t anyone else’s emergency.

Like, my landlord not only called to bitch me out, but he had one of his Robert Palmer girls call and lecture me on not solving my own problems. (Because my professional guy cost $150 and his not-bright brother-in-law cost $60.)

That reminds me of when, at my old place, *I* was the annoying upstairs neighbor. I mean sure I didn’t drag bodies across the floor all night and bang the sliding glass doors at every available opportunity because I was running out every five minutes to smoke cigarettes and dope like Islamic Caitlyn Jenner who lives upstairs from me now. But, fire alarms.

My one-time downstairs neighbor Lauranne ran upstairs after the smoke detector in my room was going off for an hour. The batteries were out of it and it was early morning and her baby was in hysterics. She ran into my house to find me on a ladder in my jammies, beating on the thing with a hammer.

She moved out right after that. But the point of the story is that I had called maintenance for help and no one cared. So I called the fire department. That visit cost the building $1,500. Suddenly everyone cared.

Not about me or Lauranne or her baby. But I sure got a lecture on handling things myself.

And the bottom line every time is that where everyone else wasn’t available, I did my thing. And I have a very hard time apologizing for having a working toilet or ending the very loud ringing in my ears that you could hear from six floors below. (And six feet under. Those were a BITCH.)

In any event, this is why I have phone anxiety. It’s why I have review anxiety. It’s why I have nothing but ANXIETY. I mean, it’s one thing if I were a total and complete moron trying to fumble my way through the world. But I’m educated and have a high IQ and I think I’m pretty OK when it comes to decision-making because I at least think out all the consequences.

Yet, in a world where other people get the last say on whether it’s “good enough,” I’d rather move to an island and crack coconuts with my thighs (because, I can) and never hear the thoughts of another living soul again.